


Legacy

by MsEllieJane



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Origin Story, Russian Literature, and a dash of parental guilt tripping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-25 15:22:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15643518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsEllieJane/pseuds/MsEllieJane
Summary: Katrina is all set to start her training at Starfleet Medical, but has to convince her mother that it's the right path to take. Whisky drinking and rants about Asimov and Dostoevsky ensue.





	Legacy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SonriaCat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonriaCat/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [SonriaCat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonriaCat/pseuds/SonriaCat) in the [july2018](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/july2018) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
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> Why Starfleet? With her training, talent and capabilities, Katrina could have written her ticket anywhere she wanted in the civilian world. She could have been a consultant, a clinician, run a hospital, gone into academia, and probably a few other things. So what was it that drew her toward Starfleet, first as a clinician and then in the command track? Relationships are fine but not necessary; if you do use them, please keep them secondary as this should focus on her back story and what makes her tick.
> 
> #
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> I was inspired by Mia Cooper's version of Katrina's mother from this [wonderful story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13121181) about Katrina bringing her not-boyfriend home for the holidays. Please give it a read!

“Starfleet!? You must be joking, darling! Why would you even dream of throwing your future away like that?” Her mother’s voice had taken on that characteristic ring of agitation and Katrina could feel the headache starting. She removed her cap and gown and reached for the crystal whiskey decanter. 

“I told you already,  _ Mother _ . I’ve been accepted into the psychiatry graduate program at Starfleet Medical.” She couldn’t help the strained emphasis, it was a habit she’d acquired over time. “It’s a brand new program and only ten candidates have been selected. Some would say it’s a great honor.”

“Yale would be a great honor. Or the University of Alpha Centari,” Veronica Cornwell cried dramatically, her voice warbling slightly. “Starfleet isn’t a great honor, darling, it’s beneath you and your talents. You just graduated at the top of your class and every door is open to you. Don’t throw away this opportunity.”

“Every door was already open to me,” Kat muttered under her breath as she poured two fingers, neat. Even if she’d been a terrible student, her family name and mother’s connections would have ensured a successful future. It still boggled her mind how Veronica could throw around her Old Money influence in a post-scarcity economy, but she pulled it off effortlessly. From the Brooklyn brownstone furnished with antiques to an immaculately tailored wardrobe, her mother was a walking anachronism who managed to keep a prominent place in a society that favored sterile metal and glass decor. 

“Stop that mumbling and listen to your mother. You didn’t get into Harvard’s pre-med program on your test scores alone, Katrina. Your name played just as much a role as your grades when the admissions board accepted you. You are a legacy there, thanks to your father. Don’t shake your head at me like that.”

Katrina stopped shaking her head and downed half her whiskey in one sip. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against on the polished wood seat-back, grimacing at both the discomfort and her mother’s words.

“Please don’t say things like that.”

“I’m only speaking the truth and you know it. Graduating with honors was all your doing, of course, as much as I would like to take credit for that. Your father would have been very proud.”

She looked up sharply at the reference to her father and narrowed her eyes. Veronica returned the look with her steady, impassive gaze. After a few moments, Katrina broke the staring contest and finished the whiskey in her glass, throwing it back without thought of savoring it.

“It’s funny you bring him up, because he’s one of the reasons why I’m joining Starfleet.” She felt a little bad about enjoying the stricken look on her mother’s face. 

“Let me guess, he put all sorts of grand ideas into your head about seeing the galaxy and finding new life forms and then psychoanalysing them.”

“You aren’t all that far off, actually,” she replied with a snort. Her mother gave a wry smile and grabbed the decanter off the table. She gestured towards Kat, who raised her glass. After refilling it, Veronica poured herself a generous amount and sat down on the uncomfortable couch across from her daughter. She waited for Kat to speak, knowing she sometimes needed time to get the right words together in her head.

“It wasn’t any one thing,” she began, eyes focused on her hands in her lap. “There are so many small moments that have gathered in mind and given me a sense of clarity.” Before he was a conflict-resolution specialist and then an ambassador for the Federation, her father had been a teacher and a scholar. Reading and travel were his two greatest passions, and he had tried his best to instil them in her from a young age. 

“I have so many memories of visiting strange and beautiful places, but it was more than that. During all the trips we tagged along on, he always showed incredible empathy towards the individuals we interacted with. Even on some of the war-stricken worlds you didn’t want me to visit, he would help me understand each side of the conflict and glimpse the humanity in the most unfamiliar species. Seeing him at work was incredible, it was like he could read everyone’s mind. At some point I realized that I wanted to do something like that. Later on, it was the books he gave me.”

“Ugh, I knew those silly stories would lead to you getting ridiculous ideas.” As her mother rolled her eyes, Kat felt the knot of stress in her stomach tighten further. She wanted to flee to her old room and slam the door, the way she had many times as a teenager. It took all of her inner strength to shut her eyes and breathe slowly. Open opening them, she saw the look of concern on her mother’s face. 

“Katrina, I didn’t mean it like that, it was a poor choice of words." She paused, her face softening further. 

"I suppose it was my own feelings of insecurity that colored my judgment. When you were young, I wanted so badly for you to read the great classical works of literature. I gave you that antique set of leather-bound works of Dostoevsky and Tolstoy, hoping you would love these great works the way I did. When you were distracted from them by your father’s collection of Isaac Asimov and Philip K. Dick, I felt that I had failed as a mother. I should have just been happy that you loved reading, it wasn’t a contest, after all.” 

Katrina gaped at her mother, wondering what had brought on that moment of sincerity. She had always worked so hard to gain Veronica’s approval, sometimes driving herself to the point of breakdown. To hear what could be considered an apology had her shaken. 

“I should have said something sooner, I know. I was just so caught up in pushing you down the path I had chosen for you that I never stopped to think about why I was doing it. That I was so motivated by my own feelings of self doubt.”

“Um, thank you?” Katrina was at a loss, not knowing how to react to this shattering honesty. She stared into her glass for a moment, before taking a sip. She let the silence hang between them like a heavy cloud, disrupted only by the clink of a glass being set on a table. 

“Your father wanted to join Starfleet when he was young, but his parents pushed him into academia. He was eventually able to fulfill some of that dream with his ambassadorial work, but I think he always harbored some resentment. I think he wanted you to follow that path he never got to take but had the sense to not be tyrant about it. I….I think he would be very pleased with your decision. He probably also would have convinced me it was best thing for you, he was always good at swaying hearts and changing minds.” Katrina looked up at her mother, a small smile on her face.

“It means the world to hear you say that. Yes, I idolized him, but this decision was made by me, for myself. I know it won’t be easy and I’m scared and excited at the same time. There is so much of the galaxy I want to see, and so much about the mind I wish to explore.” 

Veronica had a conflicted look on her face that eventually melted into a smile. She reached across the sofa and took he daughter’s hand in hers. Katrina hesitated, and then squeezed her mother’s hand, feeling a warmth that was unfamiliar but pleasant.

“You have my blessing, Katrina, though I’m sure you have no need for it.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” she said with a teasing smile and a squeeze of her mother’s hand. She liked this new feeling between them and hoped it would continue. “All I wanted was for you to understand why I’m making this choice, and I know now that you do.”

With a nod and a smile, Veronica refilled her daughter’’s glass and then her own. Kat raised her glass towards her mother, who mirrored her action. After a silent toast to a fondly remembered husband and father, they both drank. 

“I’m going to go pack,” Katrina said while standing up and putting the glass down. “Orientation starts next week and I need to make sure I have everything in order. I know you are an expert at packing, could you help me?” The invisible olive branch offered and received.

“I would love to, darling, on one condition.” Katrina was startled at this sudden change, worry bubbling up in her chest. Veronica went to a nearby set of shelves housing hundreds of antique books. She selected a thick volume and handed it to her daughter

“Crime and Punishment?”

“I think you might find it helpful in your upcoming work, delving into troubled psyches and healing them. Consider it a graduation gift.”

“Thank you,” she said sincerely, the bubble of anxiety evaporating. As her mother walked purposefully towards her room, Katrina approached another bookshelf and found a tattered paperback. She tucked Ray Bradbury’s The Martian Chronicles under her arm, stacked on top of the Dostoyevsky, and ran after her mother.


End file.
